


The Rabbit and the Wolf

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Vael decides to return to Starkhaven in the wake of the aftermath. During his trek home he comes across a runaway slave.</p>
<p>AU where Fenris never made it to Kirkwall and never met any of our heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rabbit and the Wolf

Sebastian lowered his bow, having caught the last bandit square through the left eye, dropping him like a sack. Assessing that they were finally safe, he sank to one knee and offered a prayer to the Maker for their souls. Around him, he heard the gathered nobles and guards muttering, the latter searching the bodies for equipment and supplies.

"We can't keep going on like this!"

That was Flora Harimann. He would have recognized the voice of his ex-betrothed with a single breath. There was even a point in time where he might have been in love with her. But he had a greater purpose now. After everything that happened in Kirkwall, after six months of helping them rebuild, he was finally going home. The newly rebuilt Circle in Starkhaven had risen, lives were lost. As much as it pained him to leave Kirkwall, as he'd grown fond of it and thought of it more like a second home than he'd ever had in his youth, he was needed in Starkhaven more.

"We'll only be traveling a few more days," he said consolingly. "We'll be more cautious."

Twilight was upon them and he could tell the guards that he'd requisitioned from Kirkwall were getting tired and hungry. They walked for another mile before coming upon a river and set up camp. He'd been too used to traveling with Hawke the past six years. The man had a never ending well of stamina. Fighting both with him and against him had been some of the best years of Sebastian's life. But now that life was over, like a dream, it slipped from his clenched fists.

He couldn't mourn the past. He needed to look toward the future. Grand Cleric Elthina gone, the chantry in Kirkwall gone. All at the hands of one very, very dangerous apostate. He'd prayed every night since that one, asking the Maker for guidance. Some days, he believed his declaration of vengeance was justified, and others, he felt not so sure. To make a move when he held such doubts… He found himself wishing things were simpler. Before he committed to the Chantry. But no, he'd been an impulsive boy, too eager to sin, too eager to hurt someone. Even though he hadn't renewed his vows, to throw away everything the Chantry had taught him would be a slap in the face to the Maker. He would be patient. The answer would come to him.

Ensuring that camp was in good hands with the lieutenant, Sebastian took up his bow and quiver and headed into the woods. Hunting was the one pastime that had always calmed him. The speed and quickness moving through the forest, waiting, watching his prey. Admiring it before nocking an arrow, holding his breath, letting it fly. He didn't relish the kill, but the act of the hunt had always excited him. In his youth, it had been women. Now, hunting served a purpose other than carnal needs. It was survival.

He tracked a deer, moving deeper into the forest, keeping an eye on the stars so that he wouldn't lose his bearings. Nearly fifty feet ahead, he saw a shadow move through the trees. It seemed too small to be a deer. Stumbling around on two legs, not four. A person? He lowered his bow, but kept the string taut. It still might be a trap.

Stalking carefully, quietly, he slipped through the trees. A sudden silvery glow lit up the clearing. Not an animal, an elf. Naked as they day he was born, strange circular patterns on his skin burning with a brilliant luminescence as if he were the moon itself. In an instant they faded. The elf stumbled and fell to the ground with a faint cry. Sebastian quickly ran over, still keeping a wary eye out for an ambush, but sensed nothing.

"Are you all right?" he asked, kneeling down. His hand hovered over the elf's shoulder, hesitating to touch him and the strange markings.

The elf looked up at him, eyes the color of malachite glazed over. He'd been drugged, perhaps. "Danarius?" he choked out. "Stay… stay away."

Sebastian removed his cloak, covering him gently, an overwhelming sense of needing to protect this creature filling him up. He seemed so delicate, so fragile. "You'll be fine," he whispered. "Come, I have a healer in my camp."

"Danarius?" the elf asked again, reaching out to grip at Sebastian's tunic.

"No, I'm not." He wondered what kind of drug had been given to him to make him forget where he was. The confession seemed to calm him though, and Sebastian found himself with an armful of compliant elf.

It was too easy to scoop him into his arms, one behind his back, the other under his knees. The markings glowed again faintly, less intensely than before. He was emaciated. Sebastian could feel his ribs even through the thick cloak he'd wrapped him in. Whoever would do such a thing, it incensed him. Maker willing, the elf's tormenters would be punished for their sins.

Carrying him carefully through the thick brush, Sebastian made his way back to camp.

-

The nobles and guards alike gave the strange elf a wide berth. The former were used to elves but only as servants in their large estates, or grubby beggars in the alienages where they dwelled. Any elf that dared get ahead was quickly stamped down. The latter, uncaring about the elf's race and more about the markings on his skin, didn't bother with him beyond keeping a wary eye. It was as if they expected him to pounce on the women at any second. Sebastian, however, felt at ease around him. It was almost like nursing a wounded animal back to health. And for all the talking his new charge did, he might as well have the vocal chords of one, answering in noncommittal grunts.

He'd personally seen to the wounds, most of which were lash marks on his back, thorns in his legs, scrapes on his feet. From this, Sebastian surmised that he'd been beaten – perhaps by this Danarius he'd mentioned – and ran away. He cleaned and dressed the cuts, applying bandages where he could. A slim pair of black pants and a white linen shirt were all he could offer, and both hung comically large off the elf's too-thin frame. 

"I'm sorry I don't have an extra pair of shoes," he apologized.

The elf wrapped his slender fingers around his mug of soup, drawing warmth from it, and said nothing.

"We'll only be on the road for another day or two. You're welcome to come with us to Starkhaven. I could find you a job there and a place to stay."

Silence. He lifted the mug to his lips, sipping the broth.

Sebastian frowned but said nothing else. It might be days before the elf opened up to him. He would have to pray to the Maker for patience. Some people didn't want to be helped. He knew he could do more for this poor soul, if only he could find a way in. But it was secondary on his list of priorities right now. Getting home was paramount. Thankfully, the next two days were eventless. The patrols that his cousin sent out beyond their borders were obviously doing a good job. He would have to be careful in his requisitioning of the city. Too much pressure and any support Goran had behind him would surely create a heady opposition. Not enough and he'd be viewed as weak.

He prayed to the Maker for guidance on the morning of the day that they were to arrive in the city, down on one knee, head bowed. He gripped the silver chain around his neck, a charm with the depiction of Andraste's pyre hanging from it. Quietly, he recalled from the Chant of Light.

"Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me. Though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."

He repeated this three times.

"My name is Fenris."

Sebastian startled, looking up. Before him stood the elf, framed against the morning sun, wind catching his ghost white hair. His eyes, bright and clear now, stared down at Sebastian. Slowly Sebastian rose to his feet, Fenris's eyes following his face.

"It is good to meet you, Serah Fenris."

"No."

And Sebastian was struck at just how deep the elf's voice was. From his stature, his small frame, he assumed a much higher intonation. "Beg pardon?"

"No Serah. Just Fenris. Slaves don't deserve honorifics."

Sebastian's lips pressed together tightly. A slave. A former slave, he corrected. The surging need to protect Fenris that he'd felt upon meeting him returned in full force. He reached out, taking Fenris gently by the shoulders. "You're a slave no longer, Fenris. You are a free man. You can come or go as you please."

Fenris sneered. "What does that mean? To be free? No home, no purpose. I remember… Danarius." He looked down finally. "I shall return to him."

He started to turn on his heel, but Sebastian redoubled his grip. "No. You can stay with me."

Fenris turned back, dropping to his knees, hands in the dirt. Sebastian, startled by this display of submission, took an involuntary step back. Fenris's head was bowed, but he could hear the words clearly enough.

"I pledge my service to you."

"Fenris, no." Sebastian knelt as well, pulling Fenris up to face him. "I don't want you to be my slave."

The words seemed almost like a slap in the face to the elf. Never having had a slave in his life, never knowing anyone who did, Sebastian had no idea if this normal behavior for one. One thing he knew was that no matter what, he needed to break Fenris of this, and quickly.

"If you're to stay with me, it will be as a friend, a companion."

"A… companion."

The word sounded like a foreign language on the elf's tongue. Sebastian nodded. "You can stay with me and we'll figure it out. But I'll not have you acting as my slave." Fenris's head drooped again, and Sebastian, once again, pulled him back to face him. "Do you understand?"

Fenris nodded. Sebastian smiled and helped him to his feet.

"Let's pack up camp. We should be in Starkhaven by early evening."

-

He'd not been expecting a warm welcome when he returned to Starkhaven. In fact, he hadn't been expecting any kind of welcome at all. But quite the opposite, it seemed all of Starkhaven had turned out for his arrival. Hundreds, even thousands of citizens poured into the streets waving Vael banners in the twilight, cheering as he walked down the main thoroughfare that led to the high estate. Confused but trying not to show it, he kept his head high, nodding at those who clapped him on the back. It was a royal welcome for a prince returned home. But… how?

He looked up at the top of the ornate marble steps. His cousin Goran stood, leaning on a decorative gilded cane with a lion's head topper. He seemed every bit a prince, dressed in fine blue linen shirt, a deep purple velvet doublet. Ringlets of gold threaded through his outfit. He looked ridiculous and wonderful. Sebastian climbed the steps and clasped forearms with him before pulling him into a hug.

"Welcome home, cousin," Goran said, turning him around to face the crowd. "We prepared for this day for weeks now, ever since you sent word you were coming back at last."

Sebastian looked out over his subjects, feeling tears in his eyes. He hadn't returned to Starkhaven in years, and the last time he'd not been greeted by even a percent of this enthusiasm. Perhaps he underestimated his cousin. Though his traveling clothes were stained with mud and his hair was rumpled and he felt less a prince standing next to his impeccable cousin, he could feel Andraste's love filling him up, rising him to his proper status as ruler of Starkhaven. This was where he was supposed to be.

The celebration lasted into the night, Sebastian and his company shown to their rooms for a quick wash before course after course of delicious traditional dishes were brought before them. He'd been through such ceremony before, but his time with the Chantry taught him to take solace, rather than pleasure, in the duty. He spoke with the other nobles, accepted their gratitude but turned away their gifts, advising sending them instead to the Chantry. The revered mother would need all the help and support she could get over the next few months.

He kept a wary eye on Fenris, who'd been whisked from his side, dressed as a Starkhaven noble and seated at the end of the banquet table. As far as Sebastian could tell, the pomp and circumstance unnerved him greatly. Making up his mind, Sebastian stood from the table, taking his glass of wine with him. He spoke with several people as he weaved his way through the crowd, the banquet hall nearly full to bursting with guests. Those that didn't fit had set up impromptu tables in the square and Sebastian was sure the larders would be emptied before dawn.

"Fenris," he said, gently touching the elf's shoulder.

Fenris looked up from his full plate; despite his obvious malnourishment, he hadn't taken a bite.

"Come with me," Sebastian said, gesturing with his head toward the door.

Fenris stood gracefully, looking out of place in a pair of white pants, matching ivory shirt and dark green doublet. No doubt the dressers thought it would match his eyes. He was pale, almost washed out. Sebastian knew that the Maker cared not for what you clad yourself in physically, but he promised himself that his friend would have a better wardrobe in future. He led Fenris through the halls of the Vael estate, as vast as it was. He remembered playing games with his brothers in his youth, hiding from the servants when it was bedtime.

The corridors close to the banquet hall were a highway of activity, cooks and waiters bustling hither and thither, each of them stopping to bow or curtsy to Sebastian as they passed. The further they got away, the quieter it was. Sebastian stopped to admire some of the artwork he'd glossed over in his youth.

"It's definitely odd to be back," he mused. "It's… difficult. I wasn't happy when I left, but I was happy that I did. I learned how to be a Vael finally. That it wasn't about being in my brothers' shadows. I had to find my own path. And now I'm back. Even though I'm sad for the loss of my family, I know the Maker took them for a reason. I was angry for a long time with Him. It feels good to finally let that go. I'll always miss them though."

Fenris said nothing. Sebastian hadn't expected him to. He gestured with his glass before taking a sip. "That's them, there," he said. "In fact," he added, stepping closer to the painting. He laughed. "That's all of us. My mother and father, myself, my brothers." He pointed them out. He remembered sitting for that portrait. Several agonizing hours of doing nothing but holding as still as possible. It had driven him nearly insane.

Feris looked it over, then turned to face Sebastian. Sebastian, chuckling at the memory still, glanced at him and froze. Fenris was looking at him intensely, predatorily. He felt suddenly like a rabbit caught in a wolf's gaze. What if the last few days had all been an act? What if Fenris had been sent by a rival family to infiltrate, and now he had his chance? Fenris darted forward, Sebastian losing his grip on his wine glass as the elf pushed him against the wall. He waited for the pain from the stab wound, to feel the bite beneath his ribs, but it never came. Instead, Fenris pressed his mouth to Sebastian's, hot and needy, wiry fingers wrapping around Sebastian's wrists, pinning him to the cool stone wall.

Sebastian's head knocked against the wooden bottom of the frame and he winced, grunting in pain. Fenris ground his hips against his and Sebastian felt himself grow hard. In horror, he tried to push him away, but he'd grossly underestimated Fenris's strength. Hands and hips pinned, he wrapped a leg around Fenris's and pulled hard. Fenris's knee buckled and he fell, bringing Sebastian with him to the floor. Sebastian pulled away, springing back to his feet, wiping his mouth. He tasted blood.

"What in Andraste's good name was that?!" he sputtered.

Fenris scrambled back until he stopped against the wall opposite, eyes downcast, breathing heavily. Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down. Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding. Perhaps he'd given Fenris the wrong idea about his charity. He sighed, searching for words, turning to the Maker for help. His goblet had shattered on the floor, the wine soaking into the light blue runner carpet.

"Maker give me strength," he murmured before moving toward Fenris slowly.

Fenris put up an arm to shield himself, as if Sebastian were going to hit him. Sebastian sighed again and knelt, reaching a hand out, palm up.

"Fenris, please. Talk to me. Tell me why you did that."

They stayed like that for a moment, Fenris slowly turning his head to look at him. He reached out, unsure, and carefully took Sebastian's hand. Sebastian drew him up, helping him to stand before holding him cautiously at arm's length.

"You had said," Fenris said slowly, "you… had said you wanted a companion."

"Oh. Oh my no, I meant a friend, Fenris. Not… not a sexual companion. For whatever it's worth, I was… am a brother of the Chantry. Just because I did not renew my vows doesn't mean I'm going to go back on my promise to the Maker. He understands that eventually I will have to marry and sire an heir, but temptations of the flesh must be put aside for other pursuits. That part of me is past."

"I… see," Fenris said, and Sebastian again was struck just by how rich his voice was. His timbre only seemed to deepen the more sober Fenris was. "My apologies."

"No need to apologize, my friend. No harm done. Now," he said, looking back at the shattered goblet, "let's find someone to clean that up, and we'll talk about the future."

-

Over the next few weeks Sebastian found it was not so easy to forget that night. He thought routine would be the best thing for him. Early breakfast, prayer in the Chantry. Spend the rest of the morning in court listening to the needs of his people, lunch with Goran and the others. Afternoon paperwork and then back to the Chantry to see if the revered mother needed anything. Dinners were quiet affairs, and he always invited Fenris to sup with him and a few of his friends.

"He's… unsettling," Flora said one evening after dinner.

Sebastian frowned, casting his eyes down the table. Fenris ate quietly, still sitting away from the others. He found himself watching the elf more and more, burning shame passing through him every time he remembered that kiss, those hips against him, how it felt to be so helpless under those strong hands. He'd feel the urge, the temptation, and then need to pray for several hours just to feel normal again. The Maker was testing him; he wouldn't fail.

"He's just another man, Flora. He's been hurt far worse than anyone I know, even myself."

She flinched at that, and he tried to feel guilty. The sting of what her mother had done – what SHE had done – was still fresh, despite the crimes having been committed years ago. He reached over and touched her hand.

"He's my friend," he said.

"But… how much do you really know about him?"

Sebastian sighed and sat back. "Does it matter? All of the Maker's children are worthy of love, Flora."

"Is he an Andrastian, then?" Her tone was almost accusatory.

"Flora…" Sebastian started, then frowned. He had no idea what religion Fenris followed, and found it didn't much matter to him. Elthina had taught him that. The Maker loved all his children, even if they followed a different path. She'd said as much about the viddathari who converted to the Qun in Kirkwall. Sebastian felt differently. He never lost the desire to show them how good it felt to give yourself entirely over to the Maker. To know that your life, your fate was in His hands was altogether reassuring. "He could worship the darkspawn, and he'd still be worthy to eat at my table."

She scoffed. "I'll never understand you, Sebastian."

"I'm not asking you to understand me. I'm simply-"

Fenris had stood up, walked over. He leaned down so that he was eye level with Flora, who jumped when she turned to see him staring at her. "Maaras shokra. Anaan esaam Qun," he said evenly, then walked away.

The sheer scandalized look on Flora's face made it difficult for Sebastian not to laugh. His face must have belied his amusement because she stood immediately. "You'll forgive me if I excuse myself!" she exclaimed, cheeks tinged pink.

Sebastian stood as well, bowing slightly, and chuckled as she fled from the room. Others looked up, confused, and Sebastian merely hand-waved away her odd behavior. Wiping his mouth on his napkin, he took one last sip of wine before taking his leave.

He found Fenris in the training yard and stopped atop the steps to watch him. Shirtless, sweating, lyrium markings glowing silvery in the moonlight. He handled a two-handed broadsword as if it weighed nothing, striking at the large straw dummy over and over. Moving like a dancer, he darted in, struck, spun away. Sebastian unconsciously licked his lips, watching the smooth, wiry muscles flex under his skin. Heat pooled in his groin and he felt his cock harden.

"Maker," he pleaded, dropping his gaze. He muttered a few words of the Chant, trying to get himself back under control. When he looked up, Fenris was standing on the step below him. He startled; he hadn't heard him at all. "Fenris."

"Why do you keep me here?" Fenris asked. He held his sword in one hand, the silverite glowing almost as brightly as his tattoos.

"Keep you? Fenris, you're a free man. You can go if you want."

Fenris scoffed. "And where would I go?"

"Do you have any family?"

"None that I'm aware of. If I do, they're slaves in the Imperium," he said, tone dripping with disgust. He stepped up, forcing Sebastian to take a step back, nearly tripping over the top step. "You should have left me to die."

"Fenris, you don't mean that," Sebastian said, still backing up as Fenris approached. He reached out, gripping Fenris by the forearms. He'd expected the lyrium to be hot under his fingers, but they were like ice. "The Maker has given you another chance. You can use it to be anything you want. You have a choice."

"Slaves don't get choices."

"But you are not a slave, my friend," Sebastian insisted. He lifted a hand, frowning as Fenris winced, as if he expected to be struck. Instead, Sebastian cupped him gently under the ear, fingers at the back of his neck. Maker, he was… beautiful. "Andrastate forgive me," he whispered, pulling him close, kissing him.

The burning shame of giving into temptation was second only to the heat of Fenris's mouth. It had been years since he'd even thought of kissing another, and certainly not another man. No one he'd ever known kissed the way Fenris did, soft and sweet with a hunger behind it, so intense. He opened his mouth and his tongue met Fenris's, he moaned softly. His years as a brother of the Chantry kept him chaste, years of pent up feelings that he thought he'd long locked away. Fenris tried to move closer, but Sebastian held him firmly with his other hand. He pulled back, panting, a blush creeping up his neck and over his face.

"That… that should not have happened," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Sebastian let his hands drop, already missing the cool feeling of Fenris's skin. "I am… I should not take advantage of you. I'm a prince of Starkhaven now, and a brother of the Chantry."

Fenris tilted his head slightly; in the way a dog would, trying to understand a command. "You didn't renew your vows."

"That doesn't matter," Sebastian said, sighing in frustration. He pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "I will have to marry one day and produce an heir. I will not be unfaithful to my wife. I will not… I will not entertain the idea of having this affair when other things must take precedence. It's not in the Maker's plan."

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

Fenris reached up, gently cupping Sebastian under the ear in the same way Sebastian had done. "You are… very confusing to me. Freedom has so many choices and yet it seems… too many. You can't decide, yet you believe it's a good thing."

"I…" But Sebastian had no argument. In the Chantry, his path was laid out very clearly. After word of his family's fate had reached him, he broke his vows. Since then, everything seemed to fall apart, shattered, and when the pieces came back together, they were in the wrong order and nothing fit right. Except Fenris. Fenris… felt right.

He took Fenris's hand and pulled it away, resisting the temptation to kiss his knuckles.

"Do you wish me to go, then?" Fenris asked.

"No. Stay."

"I have no purpose here. And I'm an upset at your table."

Sebastian frowned, looking at the silverite sword still held loosely in Fenris's grip. "You could train my army. I've watched you move. No doubt the soldiers could benefit from learning from you."

Fenris considered this a moment, Sebastian watching the way he tilted his head once more, brows furrowing. Strands of white hair fell into his eyes, and the temptation to brush them aside became too much. He reached up, running his fingers through Fenris's hair, a more intimate gesture than even their kiss had been.

"I've never trained anyone before," Fenris said finally. "But if you wish it."

"I want you to make the choice for yourself, Fenris. You don't have to decide now." He crooked a finger under Fenris's chin to bring his eyes level. "Just let me know your decision when you're ready."

Fenris nodded. Sebastian leaned in, but stopped himself. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Fenris's forehead. _Maker_ , he thought as he tore himself away, leaving Fenris behind, _lead me from this temptation. Tell me what I should do._

-

The Maker, he realized, might have been playing a terrible joke on him. Fenris had agreed to stay and train his soldiers. This of course caused some speculation and more than a lot of pushback from the nobility in the city. Sebastian had to convince the captain of the guard that Fenris was not, in fact, going to lead them into any battles, just train them how to wield a sword better and move more quickly. At the very least, after the first training day, Fenris had gained the respect of the men. Sebastian doubted they would be inviting him for drinks in the tavern any time soon, but it was a start.

He'd begun the long process of meeting eligible daughters, somewhat disgusted by the tradition. They were lined up like prized horses, waiting for a blue ribbon. He prayed for patience, for guidance. The noble women of Kirkwall had been of no consequence to him as he preferred the company of the sisters of the Chantry. Chaste and pure, they spoke of only the Maker's love and academic pursuits. Sebastian found himself missing that simplicity as he was introduced to yet another painted noble, lips too red, rouge too thick on her cheekbones.

Retiring nightly to pray turned into more of a chore than a relief when his muscles simply ached for a hot bath over spiritual nourishment. Weeks of this and nothing to look forward to but weeks more, he skipped his usual routine of visiting the Chantry. The revered mother would forgive him – she'd already made a note of reminding him he was a young prince, not an affirmed brother anymore.

The estate was mercifully quiet, dinner having been over with an hour ago. He trudged down to the baths. The hot springs pumped directly into the room, supplemented by several fires to keep the air warm. He moved behind a changing screen to strip, wrapping a robe around himself. The door opened and he paused. It wasn't unusual to have company; the baths were communal and he made sure even the servants knew they could use them.

"Off, get it off."

It took him a moment to recognize the voice. It was Guard-Captain Yosef. Sebastian stifled a chuckle. Perhaps meeting a lady friend for a late night tryst? He kept himself hidden, not wanting to embarrass them. When they were sufficiently distracted, he would slip out.

"Hold still, elf," Yosef growled.

Elf? A servant, maybe. Sebastian frowned. If Yosef was abusing his authority… but as long as it was consensual, Sebastian wouldn't interfere.

The clang of metal plate armor on the marble floor, then the ripping of cloth.

"On your knees now. Fuck. Maker, yes. Open your mouth. Suck it."

Unable to help himself any longer, Sebastian peeked through a crack in the changing screen. His eyes widened in horror. Fenris on his knees, Yosef's hand in his hair, yanking hard, guiding him back and forth as Fenris tried to keep with the pace. Yosef drew him down, Fenris visibly choking as he was forced to fellate him. Rage bubbling up inside him, Sebastian stepped out from behind the screen, drawing himself up to look intimidating despite being clad in only a Starkhaven bathing robe.

"What is going on here?"

Yosef jumped and stepped back at once, Fenris wincing painfully as he was yanked forward. He fell, hands smacking against the floor to keep himself from breaking his nose on the marble. Yosef quickly hid his erection, trying to tie up the laces of his leather breeches.

"M-my prince," he stammered. "W-we were just… It was. Fenris, tell him."

Fenris moved back slowly to his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. "My apologies, my prince," he said in his deep, slow voice.

Sebastian crossed the room, glaring at Yosef and pointing a few feet behind him. Yosef bowed slightly and backed away. Coming to rest on one knee in front of Fenris, Sebastian tipped his chin up to look at him. He had the beginnings of a black eye – from training? – lips swollen and smelling of sex.

"If it's consensual, I will offer my apologies and cease interference," he said, praying it was. He would accept the blame and embarrassment for the interruption.

"My prince!" Yosef started to protest, and Sebastian silenced him with a hand in the air.

"It's…" Fenris began, hesitating. "Part of training."

He sounded unsure, however, and it was that uncertainty that allowed Sebastian to succumb to his anger. Standing, he whirled on Yosef who, despite wearing full plate, cowered under Sebastian's wrath.

"You," Sebastian snarled. "You're lucky I don't have my bow in my hands right now. If I were a lesser man, I would kill you where you stand."

Yosef lowered his head. Sebastian regretted the punch even before his fist met the guard-captain's cheek. He should have better control. But the way Yosef crumpled, hand immediately rising to stem the blood, gave Sebastian a feeling of vicious satisfaction.

"I hereby strip you of your rank and relieve you of all duties henceforth. Your lack of honor will stain the noble title of Guard-Captain of Starkhaven no longer. And I will not suffer rapists among my people. Your weapons," he commanded.

Yosef removed his sword from the sheath and a small dagger from his boot. He tossed them aside. Sebastian glanced back at Fenris, who watched the exchange with wide, confused eyes. Anger still not yet abated, Sebastian stalked to the door, wrenching it open. Looking down the corridor, he saw one of his servants carrying a load of laundry.

"Beg your pardon," he called.

She turned. An elf, thin, wide-eyed and tired-looking. When she realized who'd called her, she immediately curtsied, gripping the basket tightly in her hands. "My prince."

"Call for my cousin, please. Wake him from bed if you have to and inform him I've need of him. A most grievous crime has been committed within our walls."

She curtsied again and hurried to comply. Goran was there in minutes, wiping sleep from his eyes, covering a yawn. He glanced from Yosef, a smear of blood on his cheek, to Fenris who was still kneeling by the edge of a bath, to Sebastian, whose knuckles were split.

"Should I ask?"

Sebastian shook his head. "I cannot sentence this man. Only the Maker can judge him. He needs to be put in a holding cell to await his fate. I'll speak with the revered mother in the morning. He has been stripped of rank and title and no longer deserves the honor of being addressed in a respectful manner."

Sebastian handed the sword and dagger to Goran, who took them with a grimace. "I'll see to it that he's locked up, cousin."

Goran led Yosef out, and Sebastian realized he'd have to explain it all in the morning. He'd figure out how to do that without causing further embarrassment to Fenris. Fenris. He turned, and his heart broke at the elf's submissive stature. Sitting back on his calves, hands in his lap, head down, Fenris waited. Sebastian gathered up his previously shed clothing and approached his friend, holding a hand out. Fenris hesitated but took it, and Sebastian pulled him to his feet.

"Come. Let's go to my room and talk."

-

The scandal hit the town criers and newspapers by mid-afternoon. Guard-Captain Yosef relieved of his command, charged with forcing himself on a fellow guard. There was speculation as to who it was, and Sebastian had managed to keep Fenris's name from the reports. Feeling even more overprotective now, Sebastian personally oversaw the training of the guards, watching Fenris as he instructed them in their movements. He dined with his friend for every meal, and insisted he come to prayer with him in the evenings. After, they would spend time in Sebastian's room, whereupon he discovered that Fenris had never learned to read.

He made it his personal mission to ensure Fenris had a proper education, teaching him both the King's Tongue and Orlesian, two languages he was intimately familiar with. They spent long evenings, taking meals in Sebastian's room while he helped Fenris practice his letters. On the occasions where he had to be called away to deal with the affairs of the state, Sebastian found his mind inevitably wandering back to Fenris.

"It's getting late," Fenris noted, once they'd finished another chapter.

"That it is."

"I'll see you in the morning, then," Fenris said, laying the lace bookmark between the pages.

He was almost to the door when Sebastian spoke. "Stay."

Fenris stopped and turned to look at him. Sebastian didn't trust himself yet to cross the room, and instead lingered near the window. He looked away from Fenris and out over the city of Starkhaven. A soft wind blew through, rustling banners and swirling leaves that had been falling, marking the beginning of autumn.

"Fenris, I've prayed to the Maker for guidance when it comes to you. For weeks now, I've tried to figure out what I should do."

Fenris remained silent, and Sebastian wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

"I admit I've not been able to… hear Him. There's no clear path. I wish to keep you safe, but you're far from helpless. I've seen what you can do in a fight; you've felled several of my best men. And yet… and yet you still think yourself a slave. You've not spent any of your wages, you do everything you're told. What am I to do?"

Fenris looked up at him through strands of soft white hair. "Do you want an answer from me, or is that rhetorical?"

Sebastian waved a hand, indicating for him to continue.

"You're a hypocrite."

"Beg pardon?"

Fenris approached slowly and again Sebastian was reminded of how wolf-like he was, moving as a predator stalking its prey. Once more he felt like a scared rabbit, caught under that gaze, unable to move until Fenris stood right before him, inches shorter but somehow towering over him.

"You constantly tell me that I still act the slave, that I'm still bound by my past. All the while falling back to your precious Maker and His teachings as if you were still part of the Chantry. You don't do what you wish to do without seeking the approval and guidance of a god who's long abandoned you. I may be a slave still, but if that's the truth, then so are you. We simply serve different masters."

His words stung, biting deeper than he'd thought they would. And where was the Maker? Sebastian had prayed nightly for an answer that never came. Not just about Fenris, but about Kirkwall and Starkhaven. Life had become much more complicated than he'd imagined it would. Some things were black and white but most of the world was grey and the future murky. There could be a battle tomorrow, he could die. Maker's breath, he could fall down the stairs and break his neck like his great-uncle. Nothing was certain, and that was the beauty of the Maker's world. In all its glory and chaos, in all its confusion, he was a fool to try to make sense of it.

He must have made a move or a noise of assent, because in an instant his arms were full of Fenris, kissing him once again. This time, he did not pull away. They tumbled to the bed, and Sebastian viciously shoved away the guilt he felt. The Maker had put Fenris there not as a temptation to be avoided, but as a friend, a lover to be embraced. Someone he could count on and depend upon. Someone he could trust to protect him and protect in return, someone to… love.

A challenge had been put forth, and Maker willing, Sebastian would embrace it with every fiber of his being. He would bring Starkhaven back to its former glory, and he would do it with Fenris at his side.


End file.
